“I think,” he said gently, “that we have met before.” “A mistake,” Monty declared. “Never saw you in my life. Just off to sleep.” But Francis had seen the trembling of the man's lips, and his nervously shaking hands. “There is nothing to fear,” he said; “I wanted to speak to you as a friend.” “Don't know you; don't want to speak to you,” Monty declared. Francis stooped down and whispered a name in the ear of the sullen man. Trent leaned forward, but he could not hear it--only he too saw the shudder and caught the little cry which broke from the white lips of his partner. Monty sat up, white, despairing, with strained, set face and bloodshot eyes. “Look here,” he said, “I may be what you say, and I may not. It's no business of yours. Do you hear? Now be off and leave me alone! Such as I am, I am. I won't be interfered with. But--” Monty's voice became a shriek. “Leave me alone!” he cried. “I have no name I tell you, no past, no future. Let me alone, or by Heaven I'll shoot you!” Francis shrugged his shoulders, and turned away with a sigh. “A word with you outside,” he said to Trent--and Trent followed him out into the night. The moon was paling--in the east there was a faint shimmer of dawn. A breeze was rustling in the trees. The two men stood face to face. “Look here, sir,” Francis said, “I notice that this concession of yours is granted to you and your partner jointly whilst alive and to the survivor, in case of the death of either of you.” “What then?” Trent asked fiercely. “This! It's a beastly unfair arrangement, but I suppose it's too late to upset it. Your partner is half sodden with drink now. You know what that means in this climate. You've the wit to keep sober enough yourself. You're a strong man, and he is weak. You must take care of him. You can if you will.” “Anything else?” Trent asked roughly. The officer looked his man up and down. “We're in a pretty rough country,” he said, “and a man gets into the habit of having his own way here. But listen to me! If anything happens to your partner here or in Buckomari, you'll have me to reckon with. I shall not forget. We are bound to meet! Remember that!” Trent turned his back upon him in a fit of passion which choked down all speech. Captain Francis lit a cigarette and walked across towards his camp. CHAPTER VI A sky like flame, and an atmosphere of sulphur. No breath of air, not a single ruffle in the great, drooping leaves of the African trees and dense, prickly shrubs. All around the dank, nauseous odour of poison flowers, the ceaseless dripping of poisonous moisture. From the face of the man who stood erect, unvanquished as yet in the struggle for life, the fierce sweat poured like rain--his older companion had sunk to the ground and the spasms of an ugly death were twitching at his whitening lips.